The Tailor of Panama by John le Carré

‘Hell did he mean by that?’

‘He was referring to certain threats that have been made against his person and suppressed in order not to alarm the public.’

‘His words, Harry ol’ boy, mind? Sound like the bloody Guardian on a wet Monday.’

Pendel was serene.

‘There were no words, Andy. Not as such. Words were not needed.’

‘Explain,’ said Osnard while he wrote.

‘The President wishes a special pocket inside the left breast of all his suits, to be added in total confidence. I’m to get the length of barrel from Marco. “Harry,” he says, “don’t think I’m being dramatic and never tell it to a living person. What I’m doing for the new emerging infant state of Panama which I love will cost me blood. I’m saying no more.”‘

From the street below, the jackass laughter of drunks rose at them like mockery.

‘One king-sized bonus assured,’ Osnard said, closing his notebook. ‘What’s the latest on Brother Abraxas!’

The same stage, a different setting. Osnard had found a flimsy bedroom chair and was sitting astride it with his podgy thighs spread and the backrest rising from his crotch.

‘They’re hard to define, Andy,’ Pendel warned, pacing, hands behind his back.

‘Who are, ol’ boy?’

‘The Silent Opposition.’

‘I’ll say they are.’

‘They’re holding their cards close to their chests.’

‘Hell for? Democracy, isn’t it? Why keep mum? Why not get up on their soapboxes, call out the students? Hell are they being silent about?’

‘Let’s just say Noriega taught them a sanitary lesson and they’re not going to take the next one lying down. Nobody’s ever going to put Mickie in prison again.’

‘Mickie’s their leader. Right?’

‘Morally and practically, Mickie is their leader, Andy, though he’ll never admit it and neither will his silent supporters, neither will his students that he’s in touch with or his people on the other side of the bridge.’

‘And Rafi stakes them.’

‘All the way.’ Pendel turned back into the room.

Osnard pulled his notebook from his lap, propped it on the back of the chair, resumed his writing. ‘List o’ members anywhere? Got a platform? Set o’ principles? What bonds ’em?’

‘They’re for cleaning up the country, one.’ Pendel paused to let Osnard write. He was hearing Marta, loving her. He was seeing Mickie, sober and reconstructed in a new suit. His breast was filling with loyal pride. ‘They’re for furthering Panama’s identity as a single fledgling democracy when our Yanqui friends have finally upped sticks and left the scene if they ever do which is always doubtful, two. They’re for educating the poor and needy, hospitals, improved university grants and a better deal for the poor farmers, rice and shrimp particularly, plus not selling off the country’s assets to the highest bidder irregardless, including the Canal, three.’

‘Lefties, are they?’ Osnard suggested between bouts of composition while he sucked the plastic helmet of his ballpoint with his little rosebud mouth.

‘Not more than is decent and healthy, thank you, Andy. Mickie is left-leaning, true. But moderation is his watchword plus he’s got no time for Castro’s Cuba or the Corns, no more has Marta.’

Osnard grimacing in concentration while he wrote. Pendel watching him with growing apprehension, wondering how to slow him down.

‘I’ve heard quite a good joke about Mickie, if you want to know. He’s in vino veritas but upside down. The more he drinks, the more he keeps silent in his opposition.’

‘Tells you a whole lot when he’s sober, though, doesn’t he, our Mickie? You could hang him, some o’ the stuff he’s told you.’

‘He’s a friend, Andy. I don’t hang my friends.’

‘A good friend. And you’ve been a good friend to him. Maybe it’s time you did something about it.’

‘Like what?’

‘Signing him up. Making an honest joe out o’him. Putting him on the payroll.’

‘Mickie?’

‘Not such a big deal. Tell him you’ve met this well-heeled Western philanthropist who admires his cause and would like to lend him a helping hand on the q.t. Don’t have to say he’s a Brit. Say he’s a Yank.’

‘Mickie, Andy?’ Pendel whispered incredulously. ‘ “Mickie, would you like to be a spy?” Me go to Mickie and say that to him?’

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